


the skies have our names written on it

by littlesp00n



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Gen, Louis-centric, Malaysia, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, Zayn-centric, also subtle louisandharry fuc, future 1d lmao as if, harry calls louis lou damn fam, louis finally opens up abt zayn leaving, they're going to malaysia my patriotic ass is singing, wish it had more panties in it but sadly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6494521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesp00n/pseuds/littlesp00n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis’s breath hitches and his heart stammers against his chest upon hearing Zayn’s genuine, conversational voice for the first time in years. His eyes waters. His lips are quivering and he wants to make a joke to cut the tension in his throat. His mind fumbles through Harry’s countless knock-knock jokes and Niall’s obnoxious puns but his lips quiver and the only thing that comes out of his mouth is a soft, hey. </p><p>“Hey,” Louis stammers, a little louder than before. “It’s me.” but his voice is too soft, as if he’d be afraid Zayn would hang up on the other line. “Fuck, Zayn, I miss you so much, man.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thailand, '18

**Author's Note:**

> first fic, soz if i suck ily ??? 
> 
> also, kudos and reviews are much appreciated!! im fairly new and in need of feedback thanks loves hope yall have a really nice day

Louis’s back is pressed against the wall of the club door, a cigarette hanging from his lips. _Of course,_ he thinks angrily to himself, _I can’t run, can I?_

After all this years of being apart, he still can’t stand the smell of harsh nicotine against his lungs. Not because he’d grown to hate himself for starting but because every time he took a whiff, he’d be reminded of Zayn. Zayn, his ‘best friend’ Zayn - Zayn, who he never called when he left, who, in return, Louis had never called back. 

The club door's gap enlarges before him and a roar of emotion surges through the openings, a couple of drag queens walk through, and then, Harry, leaning against the door frame, holding up two bottled waters with a small smile on his lips. 

“Hey,” Harry nudges Louis gently before easing himself through the door and shuts it behind him softly. “Are you alright, Lou?” 

Louis watches Harry’s green eyes underneath the streetlights, “No,” Louis sighs. No point of lying to Harry. Harry could read him even if they were continents apart. “Not really.” 

“Does it hurt?” Harry asks, softly, again. Louis almost winces at the affection, before he gives in and stumps out his cigarette and turned towards Harry. 

Harry looks good tonight - no, more than good, Louis corrects himself, Harry looks gorgeous. His hair is pushed back and his curls are everywhere. His eyes are half-closed, which probably meant he’d had a pint or two before; his lips are pursed in concentration. In the half-light, this Harry, this grown-up version of Louis’ 16-year-old Harry he’d had cooped up in his head, reemerges. 

In the years after their 'break up', after they’d been sat down at told “I’d advise the both of you to stop whispering on stage,” or “That’s inappropriate,” when they’d held hands in public, Louis and Harry had grown apart. Louis had armed himself with Liam and Zayn...and Harry made friends out of the band: the Azoffs, Ed, the lot. 

But soon after the lights are off and they’re alone, occasionally, the 16-year-old Harry and the stripes-wearing, giggly, loud Louis, who’d been best friends come out to play. 

And tonight, Harry and Louis settle into warm conversation again; despite the rain, despite the inner emotional surge that’s been bothering Louis since they arrived in Thailand a few hours ago. 

“It does,” Louis finally answers, looking up at Harry, before smiling a bit, “Don’t be a dick about it.” 

“I’m just...I kind of miss him sometimes, you know,” Harry huffs, blowing out air from his mouth. “We were a team, yeah?” 

“We’re still a team, Harry,” Louis corrects him and Harry smiles. “I miss him too. I didn’t know that he’d leave just like that.” 

“I thought I’d know someone after five years of touring together and using each other’s toothbrushes for god’s sake.” 

“I don’t think you’ll ever really know someone, yeah?” Louis sighs, again. “I miss him more here than in London. I have no idea why.” 

“Probably the girls the both of you shagged that wild, wild night that made front pages in numerous tabloids a gazillion years ago.” 

“Yeah,” Louis laughs. 

“Do you want to cry, Lou?” 

“Fuck off, Harold,” Louis hisses, laughing again. 

“You can, you know.” Harry says softly. “I know it’s stupid and it’s been fucking years...but we’ve never really talked about it. And facing it right now, I really do think it hurts.” 

“Zayn has a successful solo career, Harry. I bet he’s even more successful than us.” 

“He still can’t dance,” Harry injected. Louis giggles. 

“Zayn can’t dance...won’t dance for shit. When he starts dancing, I’m running for the hills. Must be the end of the world.” 

Before Harry could stop laughing, Liam appears at the doorframe, watching Louis and Harry get a go at it, probably also looking like they’re out of their minds. 

“Mate, thought you were coming back in after checking on Louis,” Liam slurs out at Harry. 

“We’re talking.” Harry says solemnly and Liam’s eyes go wide. Louis suspects that they’ve had this conversation before. 

“You’re _talking?!_ ” Liam’s shouting. “Bloody hell! Finally! I’m gonna go call-“ 

Niall’s blonde head peaks out from the door, “What the fuck are y’all idiots doing out here in the rain?!” 

“We’re talking!” Liam exclaims. 

“You dickheads are being annoying now,” Louis rolls his eyes. "And why the hell is the word /talking/ related to Z, now?" 

“Finally!” Instead of answering Louis’ question, Niall shuts the door behind him and sat on the steps where Louis, Harry and Liam stood, facing the rain. 

“He seems a bit louder here, don’t you think?” It was Liam’s voice who’d broken through the fragile silence after a while. 

“Cheer up, lads, no one died, we lost a member,” Louis scoffs. “Big deal.” 

“We did, Lou,” Harry says, tilting his head thoughtfully, “We kinda did die. _That_ One Direction died.” 

“But here we are,” Louis smiles. “I thought you lads were supposed to be consoling me. You know, bloody ‘talking’ and all” Louis’s hands shot up, making those quotation marks in the air, making Niall laugh. 

“Are you alright, Lou?” Harry asks again, crossing the threshold to reach Louis’s soft hands. 

Louis looks back and forth and the three of them, his team, and smiles a bit, “I’m fine.”

*** 

It wasn’t as if Zayn left Louis at the fucking altar but it sure felt that way.

This was three years ago we’re talking about. Zayn leaving Louis at the altar three fucking years ago and the heartbreak running through Louis’s veins had never seemed to cease. 

He can barely remember what happened the last night they were together. As teammates. As best friends. The fans dubbed the two of them as 'Zouis'. (Zayn and Louis, if you didn't catch the memo.) They were ‘Brotps.’ They were friendship goals. They were what the management were afraid of: young adults, fearless, inseparable, mouths out of control. 

The band used to be spilt up into groups, according to Louis’ speculations. The earlier parts were almost blurred, mostly of him and Harry, and more of him and Harry, and sometimes Niall and Liam, and also Liam and Zayn. 

So: Harry and him, Liam and Zayn, and Niall who was close with everyone. Soon, after the rumours scattered, scattering his friendship/relationship with Harry, Zayn and him had gotten really close. They’d sing and Louis would teach him how to swim. Liam and Zayn maintained their healthy friendship dealing with emotions and shit while alternatively, Zayn and him would fuck shit up in the bestest way possible. 

The thing that fucks you up the most is how you never know when’s the last time you’d see a person. 

The last night they’d spent together was at said club. Where they’d partied amongst drag queens and got high with booze. 

Zayn had taken a picture with a fan. One minute you’re doing a good deed and the next you’re at Rock Bottom, residing there with the darkness.

Louis’s memories of the night are foggy, alcohol coursed through them, plus, the hot bodies around him didn’t help either. Zayn had been pulled away from the group by a woman their age, asking for a photo. Before they both knew better, she had her friend snap it, with her arms around Zayn’s waist. 

That night, Louis and Zayn spent their night on the hotel rooftop, watching the stars (or, really, passed out underneath the stars.) 

In the morning, they’d stagger into their hotel rooms at 5 A.M. Louis would accidentally knock on Harry’s door, and Harry had let Louis in without hesitating, letting him fall on his bed, dirty and dusty from the night before, hungover as fuck. 

That night, the world changed forever. The earth’s plates moved, scattering mountains, rising tsunamis, riding the skies, creating tornadoes. 

Louis and Zayn clinked their shot glasses together, “Here’s to the world.” 

“And to freedom.” And then, just like that, he leaves the very next week.

*** 

Jay’s soft voice was prominent over the static of the phone, “He left?!”

“So it seems,” Harry was whispering, watching Louis as he flipped through a football magazine, unbeknownst to him that Zayn hadn’t just left Hong Kong to rest, but had actually left the band. Cowell and a few of his managers had called Harry up first; probably because he was the most unemotionally attached towards Zayn, or just maybe he was the only one who answered his phone. 

A few hours ago, Louis had met a tiny little girl and told her not to worry – that Zayn’s coming back soon. Probably in time for the concert. Harry heard the thoughtfulness in Louis’s voice, and how he genuinely thinks that Zayn would be back that crushed him. He couldn’t tell Louis, not like that. Not when they had a show in a couple of hours. 

The Jakarta horizon looks amazing and Louis, sitting against the window, marveled against the sun in a way that made Harry’s heart ache to tell him the truth. So he retreated to the kitchen, where Louis was out of earshot and called his mother for guidance. Jay burst into tears the moment he’d said a word and Harry regretted his move instantly. 

Checkmate, the universe seemed to laugh. 

“Haz, you alright?” He could hear Louis’s socks-clad feet moving towards where he stood on the wooden paneled floor. 

When Louis turned to look at him, the bowl in Louis’s hands fell onto the floor, shattering it into pieces. Harry looked disheveled, worried. 

Louis got it. He always gets it. 

Before he knew it, Louis whipped around and ran towards where he’d left his phone and scrolled through his contacts. His eyes were wide with fear and detachment and hopefulness. Harry placed his hand on Louis’, and stopped him. Zayn needs time, Harry seemed to say. 

Louis stopped scrolling. He went to sleep.

*** 

After a while, it gets better. After a while, you get better. After a while, Louis gets up in the mornings, somewhat okay, and tries to live without his best mate.

They say that time is the best healer. What they don’t say is that time is an illusion, and your heart tissues may replace themselves again but you can’t shred away feelings. Not with time, not with biology, but it’s gotta start with you. 

So, Louis lives. 

He gets through a day at a time. And he gets closer to Liam; and occasionally Harry and Niall. He smokes on his own now. Nicotine and tar reminds him of loneliness now, instead of laughter and jokes. But it’s okay: Louis needs alone time too. 

It isn’t as easy as it sounds. When he broke, the fans broke too. The internet breaks and cries. The air waves around them travelling through different frequencies to different radio stations all circulating the same thing and that’s Zayn’s gone solo, and Louis’s heart went with him. 

It came to the point where Louis couldn’t even turn on the fucking radio without being reminded of his then four-piece band. Plus, he was also frustrated at the fact his family, his fans, had to find out via a shitty Facebook status. A bloody, irrelevant perfume gets a press conference, but when Zayn leaves, you get a bunch of 0’s and 1’s translated into pretty ‘reassuring’ words on a website that meant nothing, as if the world was still spinning on its axis, as if the planets were still aligned. As if it didn’t matter. Like Zayn didn’t matter. 

He doesn’t know how he does it but he gets through. He has a child and names him Freddie Reign. Zayn releases his first solo. Liam congratulates Zayn, Liam speaks up for Zayn in interviews and appreciates him on stage when they’ve won a thing for them five. But Louis, Louis is heartbroken as fuck. And to him, if Zayn didn’t care and went on radio silent, why can’t he? Why the fuck does he have to care? 

Everyday he tells himself that he can do it. That it’s just another day. That he had made it before Zayn and he could surely make it after Zayn. Ha. Louis sounds like he’d just made Zayn fucking Jesus or something. 

Until that fateful day on the dirty steps of the dirty club, in the rain, where Harry had held his hands, and Niall clapped his back and Liam talked as if Zayn was still here that Louis snapped. 

Fucking hell. Who is he kidding? He’ll never be fucking fine until he confronts Zayn for the last time.

In the middle of the night, when they’ve all arrived safely into their hotels, Louis is still shaking, wet with rain and Liam’s right behind him, trying to get him to bed. 

“I’ve gotta call him, Liam…I…” Louis’s shoulders shake and Liam grabs a hold before he hits the floor. 

“Zayn?” Liam’s voice was soft against the thunderstorm outside, warm against Louis’s skin. 

“Who else?!” Louis sighs. “Santa Claus?! Of course, Zayn, jeez.” 

“Okay,” Liam replies easily. “Tomorrow.” 

“Nah, right now, mate, right now when my adrenaline’s high and I want to fucking scream my lungs out because Zayn fucking left us in fucking Asia and never looked back once.” 

Liam looks uneasily at Louis. He looks small and lonely. He looks like the years have been catching up on him, like he’d just finally realized that Zayn left them. Like he’d been knocked out with some kind of haze these past few years and deliberately pulled on a fake smile in so many interviews and sassy remarks to mask the pain within his walls. Liam knows he has two choices: 1) is to let Louis grab a hold of his phone and call Zayn and let Zayn hear whatever Louis has to say to him or 2) call Harry and tell him to soothe Louis out. He can call Zayn tomorrow, when he’s sobered up. 

Instead of going with his head, Liam sits beside Louis on the floor and places his phone out in front of Louis. 

“He’s at the Billboard party in L.A today, I think.” Liam says, shrugging out his jacket. “He’ll be there for the show and the after party and then he’s gonna head home. Call him when he gets home, mate.” 

“I can’t…I’m sorry,” It was the first time Liam’s heard genuine apologetic words emerge from Louis’s trachea in years, and Liam takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the curse words that’ll be surging out of Louis when Zayn answers on the other end. Louis dials. Liam waits. 

They don’t say it, what Liam has wanted to ask Zayn just after he’d left, what’s been lingering on Louis’ mind for the past few years: whether Zayn had regretted his 5 years with them or, if given a chance, would start it all over again. 

Cowell is upon him and Zayn tries to stay put. Tries not to look away _and_ run away from that walking disaster. Tries not to open his mouth and tell off his bloody ex-boss how much he wanted to cut off Simon’s balls and sell it off for free on E-Bay. Zayn notices that Simon looks a lot older now and has gained weight. He looks like an old man who’d had everything and anything in life, even if he’d placed everyone through hell to get it.

So when Cowell’s hand is in his, congratulating him for his 3rd solo album that went platinum, Zayn’s phone is vibrating against his trousers. For a second, he goes numb. And he goes through his contacts list in his head. He’d only place a few numbers in the favorite section, who’d get through to him when his phone is on _do not disturb_ mode, and Gigi’s beside him, and his mother is by the chocolate fondue fountain, with his Dad. 

Zayn excuses himself before biting his lip and dashes to the men’s a couple of doors down from the party. He pushes through an empty stall and takes out his phone, shaking. 

Liam’s face, Liam, in a shiny new Batman Halloween costume from last year smiles up at him. Liam. Zayn slinks down the door and smiles to himself. 

Although he loves the spotlight on him and getting to pour out his mind, he misses Liam as much as any other lad who’d miss his mates. He missed Liam’s company and it drove him crazy. 

Zayn takes a deep breath before swiping his iPhone, answering the call. “Liam!” 

Louis’s breath hitches and his heart stammers against his chest upon hearing Zayn’s genuine, conversational voice for the first time in years. His eyes waters. His lips are quivering and he wants to make a joke to cut the tension in his throat. His mind fumbles through Harry’s countless knock-knock jokes and Niall’s obnoxious puns. Louis had been avoiding radios ever since Zayn’s first solo chopped the charts; he’d even acknowledged Harry’s indie playlists and Niall’s remedies of old boybands. But this was real. This wasn’t a stupid recording in some fancy recording studio making music. This was real, this was warm. This was Zayn. 

“Hey,” Louis stammers. “It’s me.” He says, too soft, as if he’d be afraid Zayn would hang up on the other line.  
And Zayn loses his balance for a bit, and he runs his hands through his hair, trying to listen to Louis’s melodic voice without breaking down at his fucking Billboard party. 

“Louis?” Zayn says, straightening himself against the bathroom stall. His voice hitches. His throat runs dry. “What…what’s happening, mate?” 

“Fuck you, Zayn,” Louis sighs and tears stream down from his face, making him laugh a bit at himself. “Fuck, Zayn, I miss you so much, man.”

***

On the other side of the world, Zayn’s expression hardens as he hears Louis’s voice. His heart swells with ego and pride that he felt as if he could combust. 

“You…you think you could just say hello again and expect us to be friends?” Zayn says after a while, sighing, letting his anger pass. “You never called Louis, not even once.”

“You left us Zayn,” Louis snarls, mad now, his fingers gripping the phone tightly, “You left us in bloody Asia, Zayn, in the middle of a tour. Also, you changed your number.” 

“That was three years ago!” Zayn exclaims, before realizing that he was in a bathroom, alone, and that he probably sounded like he was mad. He takes a deep breath to clear out his thoughts. “You know what, Louis, me changing my number doesn’t change the fact that you were avoiding me. I called you numerous of times, mate.” 

“Zayn, listen,” Louis says, suddenly solemn.

“No, _you_ listen, Lou, I’m done with your shit.” Zayn replies angrily, unable to help himself. 

On the other end, Louis is left speechless. 

He has been imagining of the day that he’d be able to talk to Zayn again and it involved rainbows and sunshine, not shit and thunderstorms. He’d been imagining apologizing and reluctant goodbyes when they had finished talking. Louis had been imagining everything – from pouring out his disappointment and amazement to Zayn, to awe and love and everything in between. But he had never imagined it to be like this. Never like this. 

Louis could feel hot, burning tears running down his cheeks and suddenly it feels as if Zayn’s really gone. 

“You used to be my friend.” Louis says, more to the floor than to the person on the other side of the phone, a million miles from where he stood. 

“I thought you were mine too,” Zayn replies right before Louis ends the call and pushes the phone back to Liam. 

Liam looks back at Louis and observes as his best friend, this small lad, wiping tears away from his cheeks like a child. Louis doesn’t engage in a conversation and Liam knows more than to talk to him at times like these. Louis needs time. So Liam pats Louis sympathetically on his shoulder before exiting his room, shutting the door gently behind him. 

Louis hardens that night. He hardens and leapt to his calendar and went through his schedules and makes plans. _What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? Ha._

In LA, Zayn emerges from the bathroom stall and realizes that the world has stopped spinning. That suddenly it’s all black and white and monochromatic, and the people around him talk in whispers and he just wants to take it all back and that, fuck, he misses Louis a lot too. 

Zayn kisses Gigi and his mother goodbye a few minutes later. Soon, he's on a cab to the airport. He calls his manager and tells him he won't make it to his shows tonight - that, finally, he realises that if he had to choose between his best mate and his career, the latter won't come up to him when he can't sleep and done with life and tells him that he's not alone in this world.

***

At 4.AM the following morning, Louis is knocking on Niall’s door, all sobered up with a knapsack on his bag. Niall’s groggy, sleep-deprived face peered through the door as he looks at Louis in confusion. 

“It’s time to get up, Neil,” Louis says, grinning. 

“Are you mental, Louis?! It’s the middle of the night.” Niall rubs sleep out of his eyes. And before he knows it, Louis pushes him through the door and settles himself on the large couch in his ridiculously large room. 

“Technically,” Louis says, “It’s already morning. And, we’re going on an adventure.” 

Niall looks at him curiously, one eye open before he plops beside Louis on the couch, “You’re an idiot, don’t you know that?” 

“I’m the idiot who’s gonna make this tour worthwhile for the both of us, Horan, trust me.” Louis replies and Niall laughs. 

“Okay, Louis, I’m goin to humor you,” Niall says, placing his socks-clad feet on the coffee table in front of them. “Where are we going?” 

Louis’s eyes twinkle in mischievousness, “Malaysia, baby. We’re going to Malaysia.” And when Niall’s eyes get wide in confusion, Louis continues, “We’re going to miss our flight if you don’t get that ass up and pack your things, Niall.” 

*** 

Two hours later, Louis and Niall are hauling a cab with nothing but two knapsacks, passports and a few sandwiches to stomach as they made their way to the airport. 

The best thing about bunking with Niall is that he doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t stop to sympathize, Niall’s purely business – which, somehow makes Louis crave Niall’s company now more than ever. 

On the flight, however, Niall turns to him on their economy, last minute flight seats, and says, “I hope you’re okay, Louis.” And goes to sleep. 

***

When sleep finally releases Harry from its grip, it was already close to 10. He grabs his phone first, groggily, thinking that habits do die hard. 

It’s ridiculous how early they were placed in Thailand. Their first show starts in a couple of weeks and they had nothing to do – not even interviews. Nada. Harry checks his schedule, just in case, before throwing his phone onto the Egyptian cotton sheets beside him. He groans and stretches before waltzing into the bathroom to take a bath. 

Soon, Harry has his old Ramones t-shirt and short pants on and he’s out and about to the breakfast bar: a luxury space that interconnected the four of their rooms. When he got there, he was surprised that Liam was alone, eating cereal while reading a piece of newspaper. 

“Louis?” Harry asks, in lieu of hello, sitting beside Liam and taking a bite of his apple. 

“God, Harold, get your own!” Liam groans, snatching the apple away from Harry before titling his head thoughtfully, “He’s had a rough night last night. Probably sleeping in, I think.” 

“Niall? Weird. He’s supposed to beat me to breakfast.” Harry says, smiling, before getting up and helping himself to the breakfast buffet in front of him. 

“Called him twice,” Liam takes a bite of his apple, making muffled noises, “He’s not answering his phone.”

“He probably accidentally locked himself in his room or somethin’” Harry laughs. “Poor lad. I’ll go get him.” Liam mumbles incoherently as Harry walks out of the room. 

Niall’s door was unlocked, to his surprise, and lodged between the door and its frame was a bundled up piece of sock. Harry, knowing fully well he wasn’t supposed to snoop, walks in anyway, his heart shattering in his chest, a weird feeling overrode through his veins. 

Niall’s bed was unmade and his luggage rummaged through. The bedside lamp is still on.  
Harry walks to where Niall keeps his things – passport, ID, wallet, and finds nothing on the vanity mirror. Harry panics. He notices that Niall’s favorite backpack is missing from where he stashed it the day before. Harry runs. 

He rounds the floor, running, knowing fully well before even reaching Louis’s door that Louis is long gone too. 

“Liam, fuck,” Harry’s breathless. “Louis and Niall’s gone.” 

*** 


	2. Langkawi, MY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, the next chapter (epilogue) will be the last of the fic! 
> 
> but i'll be posting extra ot5 adventures in langkawi that i cant merge into the fic in the chapter after the epilogue!! hope you all have a lovely day :) x

“Rock, paper, scissors,” Niall hums, looking at the car brochures in front of them. Louis wants to rent an Audi but Niall wants to go rogue on a Vespa. 

“Why don’t you just ride a bloody _horse_ , Niall?” Louis rolls his eyes at Niall before Niall punches Louis’s arm playfully. 

The attendant looks at them and laughs. “Where are the two of you staying?” 

“Uh,” Niall runs his hand through his hair subconsciously, “Four Seasons I think.” He looks to Louis for assurance and Louis nods. 

“C’mon, Lou, this is our Great Escape.” Niall laughs. “We’re going on a Vespa or we’re walking. It’s your choice, mate.” 

Louis rolls his eyes at him. “Fine. God, if that’ll make you shut up.” 

The airport is sweet, Louis thinks. It’s pretty small but cute, in a way. It has the necessities: Starbucks, Juice stalls and Louis swears he saw his face on a perfume ad just down the hall. Ugh. The security was nice, saying hello, and the people when Louis and Niall politely says no pictures, they understood, to his great amazement. 

“Okay!” Niall, who has a map of Langkawi now and lays it out in front of them. They’re sitting down in the Starbucks café. People are starting to look but none of them are approaching. Louis thanks god for this. Thank god people aren’t disturbing his “Great Escape” or so how Niall puts it. 

There was a small van from the resort that was waiting for them in front of the airport. Niall and Louis refused, though then thinking twice, stashed their bags inside of it and convoyed with it through the beautiful fauna, under the hot sun, with Niall telling jokes from his right, on his own blue Vespa and Louis smiling with the wind in his hair, thinking that this is the best decision he’s ever made yet. 

The resort is located at along a beach called Tanjung Rhu. From the airport, it takes longer than needed and Louis gets tired from the lack of sleep and long airplane rides.

Also apparently, based on Louis’s coffee-induced research at 2 A.M the night before, it’s one of the most prestige resorts in the whole of Langkawi. 

When they arrived, Louis and Niall took the biggest breath they’d ever had. Fuck, Louis thinks, this is magnificent. This is bloody huge.

For a second, Louis regrets that he didn’t bring Harry along with them. That he’d chosen Niall over Harry – but Harry won’t do this: skipping a week off when tour’s so close by. And by the look of Niall’s face, amazed and red in the sun, already tanned after a few minutes, Louis knew they were in for the time of their lives. 

They checked into a “suite” which was twice as big as his luxurious hotel back in Bangkok. Or maybe it could’ve been the space (the screen-windows that covered the walls and overlooked the sea) that played with his bearings. Niall flops on his side of the bedroom and sighs, content. “Holy shit, Lou. It’s bloody beautiful.” 

The sea, the mighty sea stretched out in front of them in the bluest of the blues, and the sand as white as pearls. Louis isn’t exaggerating when he admits that it looked like they’d stepped into a photograph, a small 30cm by 30cm postcard, a picture of a poster he’d hang up on the walls of his bedroom as a child in Manchester, where it always rains and there was barely any sun. They order room service and eat like kings, laughing as they told sea urchin stories and X-Factor and shit and talked.

In the evening, Niall and Louis lounged in the “adult-only” infinity pool, Louis scoffing, saying that Niall’s a toddler and can’t be accepted here, in _‘the adults only pool, Horan, get a grip of yourself’_ and Niall splashes Louis and tackles him to the ground. 

At 9 PM, after eating plenty of local dishes, and Niall burping like it’s the end of the world, Louis turns on his phone to what it seems like a thousand missed calls from Liam and Harry. 

Without hesitating, he turns it back off and mumbles when Niall asks who it was above the roar of the waves and the TV playing a footie match back in England. 

It wasn’t only until Louis is asleep, Niall goes to the pantry to get himself a drink that he turns on his phone and sends Liam a one-ended text message of his location, by the beach, Langkawi. 

Liam has to get it. Niall has faith in Liam. 

*** 

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THEY’RE IN MALAYSIA, LIAM?” Harry is shouting at the top of his voice, in the middle of dinner, while they were both trying to eat and failing miserably, too. 

He could hear a thunderstorm outside, relieving the city’s heat with a cold, cold much needed shower. 

“Niall sent their location about three minutes ago,” Liam says, sighing, pushing his half-eaten steak in front of him. 

Harry went from looking disappointed to hurt in less than a second, “And they couldn’t even tell us?” 

“Look,” Liam sighs again. They were like the band of sighs. Sigh. “Louis called up Zayn last night and I think Zayn must’ve said some pretty harsh words to him because Louis looked fairly overwhelmed and hurt after he hung up. It’s probably one of Louis’s impulsive decision to go to bloody Langkawi today. It’s not that he didn’t want to tell you Harry.”

“It’s exactly that.” Harry deadpanned before pushing away his plate, too, in echo to Liam’s actions. “I don’t care – we’re leaving the first thing tomorrow before those two get into trouble again. We can’t risk it.” 

Liam laughs, “Haz, we’re not their parents. They’re grown-ups.” 

Harry turns silent, sighing. “The last time I let my best friends out to party in Bangkok, it led our band to pieces,” Harry’s looking down now, at his feet. “I don’t want…I can’t let that happen again.”

“Okay.” Liam turns to Harry, touching his hand in reassurance. “I’m right behind ya, mate.” 

Harry and Liam turned when they heard the private elevator to their rooms dings. Out from the doors came a thoroughly soaked Zayn Malik, lugging his luggage behind him, looking disheveled, rugged, like he hasn’t slept in days. 

Harry’s eyes went wide: he hasn’t seen Zayn since an award show last year, and they barely acknowledged each other. Liam’s frozen by Harry’s side, surprised at the sudden appearance, too. 

“Hey, um,” Zayn scratches the back of his head and Liam is struck by familiarity, and it suddenly weighs on both Liam and Harry; it was a habit – something Zayn does when he’s nervous. 

“Zayn,” It was Harry who crosses the threshold towards Zayn, accelerating until he tackles him down in a “burger” effect they’d always done when they were in their teenage years. Liam knocks them down further as the three of them laughed together in a tangled of limbs on the floor, uncaring about Z’s wet clothes against their skin. 

It feels like home. 

Hell. They’ve missed home so much.

When they’ve finished feeding Zayn dinner, Zayn, too, piped out the same question as Harry, making Liam laugh, “WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU MEAN THEY’RE IN MALAYSIA?!”

***

Niall is in the beach kitchen, (Fuck, yeah, they had a beach kitchen – where they could eat and call their private chef damn) drinking orange juice while scrolling through his phone, reading about his friend in the Masters. His omelets are placed in front of him with a local delicacy called ‘Nasi Lemak’ that was basically rice cooked with with a side dish of chili and anchovies. Niall sighs in content and thanks the chef – he could get used to this. Paradise, the sun, the food, also Louis. The best company in the world when he’s not in a bad mood. 

He thought about the regret that encompassed his mind when he sent Liam’s their location, knowing fully well Louis would never forgive him but he knew Louis needed to talk. And Harry’s the only one, even after all this years, who could really get Louis to pour himself out. Niall had tried, after several beers last night, in front of the sunset, but alas, Louis didn’t want to talk about the last years, nevertheless the band. 

Speak of the devil…Louis waltzes to the beach dining table with nothing but a pair of turtle beach shorts and flip flops. “Mornin’” Louis greets, smiling. 

“Hey, Lou.” Niall munches on his dish, admiring the view in front of him before turning towards Louis. “Sleep well?” 

“Like a baby.” Louis laughs. “I hadn’t slept that well in months.” 

“The heavenly air conditioning and bloody comfy sheets might be a factor.” Niall butts in as Louis lights up a cigarette and drawls in. 

“So,” Louis says, perking up. “What do we have in plan for today, Master Horan?” 

“I was thinking we’d spend the day touring this resort today. We could tour Langkawi the whole of Langkawi on our trusted Vespas tomorrow.” Niall smirks. “Oh yeah, and the chef told me that the Geo-park…yep, apparently they call the parks here Geo-parks...” Niall purses his lips in confusion. “I used to be damn great at geography but it looks like I haven’t even learned a thing about Asian countries.” 

Louis is laughing, now, in tight bursts of it, “Niall. Get. To the fucking. Point.” 

“There are kayaks we could take on here to explore the adjourning Geo-parks.” Niall snaps, rolling his eyes at Louis. 

Louis grins. “Looks like we have a plan, Nialler.” 

*** 

“The kayaks are individual kayaks only right now. The twos are reserved for family…but we can make an exception if the both of you would like to share,” The man behind the counter smiles at them. On his nametag, Louis reads the word: Danial.  
Danial’s smirking in a way that Louis thinks that he thinks that Louis and Niall are…honeymooning together. “No,” Louis chuckles to himself. “We’re fine. Aren’t we sweetheart?” 

Niall, who’s looking at his phone again, snaps awake, and realizes the situation that he’s in. And the fact that Louis had just called him sweetheart. 

Niall howls with laughter before his arm twists along Louis’s waist, in a protective, _he’s mine_ kind of way, and whines pathetically, “But I don’t wanna be alone.” 

“You won’t be alone, baby,” Louis coos, winking at Niall before side-glancing his way towards Danial. “I’ll be with you all the way.” 

Danial shifts awkwardly and clears his throat before keying in Louis’s reservation. When they part, the both of them burst into fits of laughter, until tears are dripping down their faces, on the floor. Louis goes to change. Niall says he needs to go buy souvenirs for Theo and Greg. 

What Louis doesn’t know is that Niall’s halfway to the airport by the time Louis is in the Jacuzzi, soaking himself up before kayaking. What Louis doesn’t know is that Zayn’s on his way with Liam and Harry to them right at that moment. He does know that his phone is off and he’d rather be spending time trapped in paradise rather than touring the world and getting hate from his so called fans; and his so-called friends. 

*** 

“I’m scared.” Zayn admits, sighing to Harry. “I…we kind of broke up last night.” 

“We broke up three years ago, Zayn,” Harry reminds him, clapping his back. 

Liam is talking to the car dealer, trying to get a car for the three of them, no matter the price. He had talked to Niall and Niall laughed and said that he and Louis were riding Vespas. Liam’s talking animatedly at the dealer and Zayn’s scratching his head again, and Harry wants to tell Zayn that it’s okay. 

“You know you’re forgiven, yeah?” Harry nudges Zayn with his duffel bag, smiling a bit. He pushes his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose and looks at Zayn. “It doesn’t matter, Zayn, what you did. It’s been decades. Centuries have passed. I don’t even know why this is all happening right now. We’ve gone through this before.” 

“You’ve gone through this before, Harry,” Zayn mumbles as Liam approaches them excitedly. “I…I don’t know why I said that to him. I wasn’t thinking straight.” 

“Right boys,” Liam chats. “We’re driving Vespas today!” Before laughing, earning groans and grunts from both Zayn and Harry respectively.

When Niall still hasn’t arrived from buying presents, Louis decides he’d go kayaking on his own for a while. Niall could tag along later – he didn’t want to make him rush. Louis was used to Niall spending all his hours trying to find the perfect present for his little nephew, Theo. 

Louis leaves a note before shutting the door on Niall’s pillow, “Out kayaking. Better be there in ten. I’m counting. 14:43, Louis.” 

The park ranger welcomes Louis and shakes his hand twice. “Hello, Mr. Tomlinson.” 

“Hey,” Louis smiles. 

Ravi is the manager of the recreational center at the resort Louis was staying, hence the good offers sitting right on the table, explained to Louis one by one. Ravi explains about the water levels, the tide, the density of the foliage. He explains to Louis about how the kayaks work, which flag and whistled summoned an emergency, the ethics when he was stuck in water. It might have seemed that Ravi understood Louis – that Louis didn’t want someone to guide him through the park, that he just wanted to wander alone with his thoughts, trying to calm it down like the soft breeze of the sea. 

When he finishes and ends his explanation by offering Louis some tea, Louis politely declines and asks, “How’d you know?” And when Ravi seems confused, Louis adds, “That I wanted to be alone?” 

The park ranger smiles politely at Louis as he stacks up his papers on his modern, wooden desk, “You look like a thoughtful person, Mr. Tomlinson. Not a lonely one. I just supposed you needed time alone, ‘s all.” 

“Thank you.” Louis says, backing out of the door, before saluting the ranger jokingly. 

Louis’s slippers slapped against the sidewalk as he makes his way down to the beach where his boat will be waiting for him to take him to the Eastern Rim of Langkawi – praying with all his might that Niall would be back soon. But not that soon though. Just because he wants to be alone doesn’t mean he enjoys loneliness. 

*** 

The waves are lapping against Louis’s kayak. The wind is soft. The foliage dense enough for sunlight to get through but isn’t enough to get him burnt. Overall, Louis stops, in the middle of the sea. Far behind him he could see the Naturalist – his guide, looking out from him from afar. It might have seemed that Ravi had told him not to bother Louis. He’s honestly thankful for that. 

In front of him the mangrove forest stretched out in acres. And in the distance, he could almost make out the natural karst lake that’s supposedly connected to the sea through a cave. 

Louis puts his legs and paddles up for a moment before letting the sunlight bathe him. In a while, he’ll hear boats in the distance. And he’ll fall asleep, thinking that it couldn’t get better than this. 

*** 

Louis wakes up to a kayak, paddles, approaching him. It must’ve been twenty minutes or so but he had already sweated through his shirt. 

Louis turns around slowly to see Zayn, waddling in his own kayak, looking like he might just faint. 

“Ah fuck,” Louis curses, slapping his hand across his forehead. “Heat stroke. Fucking hell. Stupid. Should’a put on more sunscreen fuck.” 

But the more Louis rubs his eyes to take away the fragment of Zayn, the more real he becomes. The truer. 

When he’s closer, Louis squints. “You’re a fragment of my imagination, eh, mate?” 

Zayn looks tired. There are eye bags under his eyes. He looks as if he hadn’t slept in days. “Imagination?” 

“Am I supposed to apologize now, huh?” Louis asks, louder than needed, more to the air than to Zayn, honestly trying with his head to telepathically get to Zayn who’s probably in fucking New York fucking with his blonde girlfriend. “I tried, okay?” Louis looks at Zayn in the eye. And a sudden sob erupts in his throat, echoing throughout the mangrove trees. “I tried calling you and apologizing and you didn’t give a shit.” 

“You didn’t give a fuck then – you probably won’t give a fuck now. I honestly don’t know why I tried. I’ve lived without you in three years and I’m okay.” Louis exclaims. “I’ve got a bloody child who’s almost three, who looks up to me like I’m the world and all I want him to do is to know you.” 

“And yippee,” Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes at the Imaginary-Zayn. “Great. I know you’re all happy now and have a good girlfriend and you’re an A-lister and we were just a stepping stone or some shit but you shouldn’t have left just like that you know?” Louis is out of breath now, and in the distance, birds are chirping. It’s too good of a day for Louis to be this mad. “You could’ve ended after the bloody tour, you could’ve saved us the wreckage of needing to continue your solos and not feel like shit.” 

“Oh, come on Zayn,” Louis says. Zayn looks a bit smaller now, like he’d shrunk into himself. “I don’t know why I’m supposed to apologize when you’re the one who left us. It was five or none, remember?” 

Louis closes his eyes and breathes. In and out. In and out. When he gets to his tenth respiratory cycle, he opens his eyes, expecting imaginary Zayn to be off – for him to be alone and Niall to intervene. But he’s still there, in the flesh. Zayn’s there, and he looks as if he’d just seen a ghost. 

“Louis…I’m real, Lou.” Zayn manages a feeble smile. “Lou, it’s me.” 

Louis stumbles and his kayak wobbles from underneath him. Thunder booms in the distance. The waves are sloppier now, and the wind is hurried. When Louis is still silent, Zayn sighs. 

“I’m sorry, Louis,” Zayn mumbles. “But I would've loved to have known Freddie too.”

Louis looks straight ahead, beyond Zayn, towards the boats. “Who’d you come with?” Louis asks when he’s breath returns, when his head is straight, when he doesn’t want to jump off this kayak and push Zayn into the water.

“I don’t know,” Zayn replies, shrugging. “Everyone, I guess. Harry’s in the boat with Niall. Liam’s settling in the resort. Good taste, Louie, as always.” 

“Fuck off.” Louis snaps, trailing his eyes back at Zayn’s face. Deep inside, he realized that he had missed Zayn’s annoyingly flawless, beautiful features. 

“Hey,” Zayn says, wobbling, shivering to himself. He grabs his paddle and makes his way closer to Louis’s kayak, sending waves (and, shockwaves) to the kayak and to Louis’s heart himself. “I…I came here to tell you that I’m sorry, Louis.” 

Louis raises his eyebrows. “You’re telling me you’re sorry? After three fucking years?” Louis’s anger is prominent now. 

“I tried to call. I told you I tried to call.” Zayn argues. 

“Try harder, Zayn,” Louis mumbles. His paddle is against Zayn’s. From Louis’s end of the boat, he could smell Zayn’s favorite perfume, faint against the sea breeze. Intermingling with it was also the smell of rain. A thunderstorm was approaching them. 

“I’m trying, Louis,” Zayn replies back, tears in his eyes. 

“It’s too late mate.” Louis laughs bitterly – subconsciously, his tears are falling freely too. The trees sway. The waves are harder now. Ironic, he thinks to himself. “You should leave.” 

“L-leave?” Zayn chokes. His voice shakes as the thunder from afar booms, as the skies fell, as the rain splattered against his skin. “You want me to leave?” 

“You already left,” Louis answers breezily, knocking Zayn’s paddle with his own. “Better make it fast.” Louis says, patting Zayn’s shoulder softly when he rows pass Zayn as he made his way back to the boat. His boat. He doesn’t give a crap about Niall at the time, either. Bloody backstabber. 

When he’s halfway across the sea, the waves were heavier, the lifeguards were waving their emergency flags at Zayn and Louis. Niall and Harry were waving their hands in panic. Louis reaches Niall’s boat first and scampers up the ladder as the sea tries to grab hold of him, trying to swallow him whole. 

When Louis reaches Harry, Harry locks his arms around Louis’s small frame, “I thought you were going to die, Louis.” 

It’s funny – Harry. Harry, his best friend. Harry, whom people have theories, who people live up for their romance, who people scour over their old video diaries to find out whatever happened to Louis and Harry. Whatever did happen back then, still has its effects now. Whatever happened – love, or brotherly romance, or shit, it left a mark on both Louis and Harry. Louis can feel his heart beating against Harry’s shirt and he feels warm. Like he’s…home. 

Niall’s panicked voice was what jolted both Louis and Harry back to the storm, back to reality. “Louis,” his eyes were wide in horror. “Where’s Zayn?”  
“He was just paddling along behind me,” Louis says, struggling to look for Zayn’s red kayak in the black sea. The sun was engulfed by the clouds now. “He was just _there._ ” 

Louis’s panic builds in his throat and washes over him like the rain. Niall calls for backup and the lifeguard rushes towards the ladders. He rogers the boat beside them – Louis’s boat – and they looked to the sea. The raging waters, the waves, the storm. 

“We need to save him,” Louis’s faint voice could be overheard against the wind. “WE GOTTA SAVE ZAYN.” 

The lifeguard nods sympathetically, “We need to wait until the storm calms down, Mr. Tomlinson. It’ll be useless trying to find him. We’d all drown.” 

“We…I told him to leave,” Louis cries. “I told him to leave!” Louis’s at the edge of the ladders now, looking towards the waters. Harry’s hand holding his was the only thing keeping him from jumping. Niall’s by his side now, straining, looking above the gushing wind and the black sea’s waves and the rain and everything in between, hoping Zayn…Zayn would be safe, underneath the mangrove trees for shelter. 

“Zayn can’t swim.” Louis tells the guard, his eyes hopeful. “You have to help him.”

Harry places his hand on Louis’s shoulder, drawing in strength. Louis was too caught up in his grief to realize that Harry had jumped right into the water after his meltdown. 

Louis screams. He starts to scream until his vocal chords hurt, until Niall’s hands are locked with his, Niall trying to give Louis _his_ strength. No, Louis can’t lose them both. He can’t. 

Harry’s head bops to the surface as he keeps swimming. And then he’s gone in the sea, engulfed with the rain and the waves until Louis looses sight of his head. He wishes Harry were blond. He wishes he had super eye powers or some shit, he wishes he could do something rather than sit there and stare into oblivion. And stare at Harry’s figure fading in the distance, swimming god knows where in wretched waters in a storm. 

 

When Harry reappears, he has Zayn latched onto his side, swimming like he must’ve rescued someone before. Louis is crying out in relief when he catches sight of Zayn and Harry’s head, Harry treading water and Zayn’s unconscious, his lips blue. 

The lifeguards swim out to Harry then; bloody pricks, Louis whimpers. Helping both Harry and Zayn up into the boats. Getting out medical kits for Zayn and starting CPR. Louis runs and it was his time to hug Harry securely, as Niall helps out with saving his friend. Louis’s eyes were blurry with rain and emotion dripping down his body, and he’s looking at Harry like Harry’s the world. “Thank you,” 

Harry grins sheepishly at Louis, “You would’ve done the same thing for me.” 

Zayn splutters out, blood and water, and his eyes are wide in fear. His breath comes in waves, like he’d had the sea in him – and he has. Zayn was part of the sea for a little while. Niall clasps his hand on Zayn’s shoulder and hugs him tightly. “Fucking hell Zayn, you scared the lot of us. I almost shat my pants, mate.” 

Louis is by Zayn’s side as the boat revs its engine and maneuvers itself out from the storm, the sea. 

“Don’t you _ever_ leave.” Louis says, his voice barely a whisper over the wind and for the first time in a while, Zayn’s lips forms a smile. 

“Thought you’d never ask.” 

When the sun went down, that day, everything changed. Day after day, night after night, world after world.

When they reach the resort, Zayn’s against Louis’s side, wrapped in a towel, squished in between Louis and Niall. Harry’s giving a word or two to the lifeguards, and Louis suspects that Harry’s threatening to sue their asses off.

When they reached Zayn’s bedroom, a conjoined room to Liam and Harry’s, Liam has his arms around Zayn, saying that he’s heard the news and that he was scared out of his wits. Liam eyes Harry appreciatively and takes Zayn by the waist, letting Z’s weight on him until they both stumble on the couch. 

Liam studies at Zayn’s face, trying to look for signs of pain or heartache, but instead, he finds hope and fatigue, and love. Of course, love. 

Harry walks Louis off to his door, which in fact is just down the hall from theirs, and his face lights up with a smile that occasionally emerges these days – the one that Louis has missed. 

“So,” Harry says, pursing his lips. “Dinner?” 

Louis tries not to smile. He punches Harry’s elbow affectionately, avoiding his sea-green eyes, and nods. “With Zayn. And the others. We have to talk.” 

*** 

That evening, in front of Louis and Niall’s cabana, the chefs brought out steaks and fish and chips. And they finally settle into a conversation they’ve been meaning to have in years. 

Zayn tells them about home – about feeling right at home with them, until he felt as if he needed to move out. As if he was a child and he’d grown up and needed to move from his childhood house. But that doesn’t mean that home didn’t feel like home no more – in fact, after all these years, the walls of this house still feel the same. The smell, the emotions running through them, the atmosphere, Niall’s laughter echoing, Liam’s beatboxing, Louis’s remarks, Harry’s jokes – it all felt familiar to Zayn, it all felt safe. On the contrary, he feels even more at home now than he did then. He doesn’t feel burdened by the fact that the walls were engulfing him in, making him feel claustrophobic, breathless and hopeless. Now, it feels like the spaces have widen and they’ve been recurved to fit him in. Right where he belongs. Even if for a little while. 

Underneath the stars that night, drunk, in a way that wasn’t associated with alcohol, but with the company beside them, Louis turns to Zayn who’s sitting on a beanie and Harry’s laid down on a towel on the sand with Niall and Liam, overlooking the sea, “I’m sorry, too, Zayn.” 

Zayn groans in advance and throws a pillow to Louis’s face, “Mate, can ya cut it off? I swear to god if I hear the word I’m sorry again – I’m gonna flip.” And Niall howls with laughter. 

The five of ‘em fell asleep on the sand that night, under the stars, listening to their labored breathing and the breath of the sea, feeling young, weightless, and together once and for all. 

***


	3. Epilogue, '30.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im sorry :(((

March 26th 2030, One Direction: The Last Stand

At the last concert, they decided to display their last video diary. It was back in 2010, almost twenty years ago. Louis had found the film lodged in between Harry’s suitcases when they settled in London last autumn. 

When the lights dimmed and the band started their introductory instrumental, and instead of the four of them popping out and singing, the video is played. 

In the video, Harry was sitting beside Louis, at the lowest steps of the X-Factor house, and then Niall and Liam, and Zayn in the middle, at the top. In the video, they were talking about making tea – yeah, more tea, they’d had recorded a video diary about tea once before, too. Louis was interviewing the lads about life after One Direction, ironically, from a Twitter question. Zayn’s answer was simple: probably have gone solo. Harry said he’d start a family and get into arts, Niall wanted to pursue a golf career and Liam and Louis wanted to start producing music. The video cuts to when Liam says, “Man, that’s so far away…we’d probably be in our sixties by then!” 

And Niall’s wailing, “Louis would probably be the smelliest old man between us.” 

And then Harry’s defending Louis and Louis is laughing. 

Zayn’s quiet throughout the video, as per usual, but the banter makes him smile. They make him smile. 

The video blacks out, again, but this time it’s them: the old guys, reclaiming their spots on that very stairwell, using high tech camera. Harry’s hair is shorter and Louis has wrinkles. Niall has a cute tummy and Liam’s buffed. Zayn’s tattoos are up his arms and he’d recently shaved. They were in their old onesies. It broke hearts. 

“Hi,” Louis says, a glint shimmering in his eyes. “So. Yeah. I don’t know how to say this. But this is it.” 

Harry pipes up after Louis, “It’s the end.” 

“The end of the end,” Liam says, sighing. “It’s the end.” 

“You lads sound like it’s the bloody apocalypse or somethin’” Niall laughs. 

“It kinda is, though, isn’t it?” Harry asks, looking behind him, away from the camera at Niall. “This is the end.” 

“I feel like there’s supposed to be dramatic sad music or something playing in the background,” Zayn muses, smiling. “Or maybe the roof could fall or time could turn back.” 

Louis pours a cup of tea for each of them and passes them around. “If ya listen closely you could hear the media statements: After decades or so, One Direction reaches the end.” Louis, as per usual, making Niall laugh. 

The group of men fall quiet; and it’s rather comforting than disturbing. They look to each other for reassurance. Finally, Liam speaks up, breaking the fragile thing called silence, “So, mushy stuff now then, lads, quit fooling around.” 

“Thanks to…,” Harry starts, cheekily scrunching his eyes, seemingly deep in thought, “For everyone around the world for supporting us as a band…and us as two separate acts and us individually.” 

“Our parents,” Zayn adds, smirking, “For not wearing protection that lead up to giving birth to us five idiots now free to roam the earth.” 

Niall’s laughing again when he pipes up, “For the band…Josh, Sandy, Dan and Jon. For our trainers and bodyguards, for Sara in the kitchen, Lou and Lux, for Caroline. For our families – tour fam and home fam.” 

“For our friends. For being there, always, whether we were famous or not. Rich or not. Ugly or not.” Liam jokes. 

It falls silent again. Louis’s turn. He takes a breath and a sob erupts from his throat and Harry’s hand dart towards his in response, “For the four of you lads. For being my brothers, enemies, live savers, best friends.” Louis clears his throat. He looks at the camera and then at them again, turning his back, smiling through his tears, “For feeling like home, wherever we went.” 

They say their goodbyes again and kisses the camera in a silly, almost 2010-esque One Direction way and starts to sing The Bear in The Big Blue House’s Goodbye song. 

When they’re done, you get to see the five of them together, for the last time, standing on those steps: hugging one another, and laughing at each other’s tears. Congratulating Zayn about his newest single and telling the fans that they’d loved them so much, thanking them for making their dreams come true. 

Just before the camera shuts, the boys, our boys, smiles again, one last time and signs off in an astronaut from NASA kind of way, before the camera switches off. And the concert lights dim. 

And then the hype goes up as the bass and music drums through the speakers, the fireworks course through everyone’s veins, before it slows and stops – before time slows and stops, and Harry sings, for the first last time, “Won’t you stay till the A.M?” 

*** 

In retrospect, maybe there was a reason why Zayn left the band that’s unclear to him or to Zayn or the others even after a decade or two. Maybe it was something bigger than them. Maybe then he could really ask himself whether coincidences really do exist – whether it’s really just fate or whether miracles are just usual things that happen everyday. 

The skies looked a tad bit different tonight. England’s stars looked a bit dimmer than Langkawi’s but the company of his boys never dimmed wherever they went.

Today, they’re in Harry’s stepdad’s old bungalow, on an old unused trampoline, where they’d spent the night decades ago. Liam said closure usually helps hence the road trip and the silly sleeping bags and almost forty-year-old men sleeping outside, under the stars, in the cold. The others are well fast asleep now but Louis is wide awake, his mind thoughtful, moving past galaxies, vibrating into new Earths.

In retrospect, Louis realizes that coincidences happen just because it’s written in the stars. It’s fated, that everything is and going and had happened to him only occurred because it just has. That meeting the four of his best friends, them going on trips, singing and dancing and all those water fights on stage…it’s because their names had been written somewhat a million years ago, a trillion years ago, together, in the stars, the skies, the heavens above. 

Louis nudges Liam’s arm playfully and he groans, already half- asleep, “Fuck off, Lou, I’m tryna sleep.” 

Ah, yes, that’s it. That’s home. “Fuck you too, Liam.” 

Love you too.


End file.
